


Choosing Crazy

by kyrieanne



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-11
Updated: 2011-10-20
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:49:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3640752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrieanne/pseuds/kyrieanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben and Leslie breakup. And Leslie might go a little crazy...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Leslie can’t really explain how it began or why. Just that it did  
  
It probably started with dinner the night he broke up with her. They had planned to go out to a restaurant on the outskirts of Pawnee, right off the highway, but then he gave her that button and, well, that meant dinner was off.  
  
It was the most perfect breakup Leslie ever had.  
  
Years ago, after the first few terrible ones, she developed a routine for being dumped. She never cried. Not over a boy. It was just a thing leftover from her childhood, a mantra her mother repeated until Leslie imbued it. No, she ordered a double serving of waffles from JJ’s, took them to a park, and made a pro/con list of her new single status while she ate dinner. And at the end, the hurt and humiliation would always be rightly ordered at bottom of the things she was felt and Leslie’s heart would come around to the fact: that her life was better without said Ex.  
  
But not with Ben.  
  
She gets out of his office before the tears start to fall because she just needs something, anything, to hold back and keep just for herself. And she doesn’t fight them; she lets them fall in the darkness of Ann’s office ( _Ann is at the hospital_ ) where she hides until he goes home. She imagines the tears hitting the linoleum and swelling, pooling at her feet, until she could just float away in them, adrift in her own sadness.  
  
She just needs to be sad for a while. She needs to forget that if he hadn't done it she would've.  
  
So she doesn’t get waffles or go to a park or try to make a list.  
  
Instead, inexplicably, she goes to the grocery store with the fuzzy notion she needs to eat dinner. She half stumbles there really because she drives to the other side of town and ends up at the fancy Whole Foods Ben frequents. She skims the parking lot for his car before parking her own. Satisfied she won’t run into him there she takes her time choosing vegetables and fruits, organic milk, and all the things he’d buy if he were making them dinner.  
  
She takes the food home, piles it on her kitchen table, and grabs her laptop. With some searching she finds the foodie blog he likes and picks out the recipe he made for her a few weeks ago, the one with the creamy white sauce and shrimp. She preheats the oven for the devil food brownies he makes,  the ones he always brought to her in bed with ice cream and whipped cream while they watched Modern Marvels. And she puts on Sarah McLachlan not because of Ben, but because it's her favorite.  
  
She doesn’t realize she sets the table for two until the food is ready. She is thinking the table needs candles when she turns around and sees the plates, cups, and silverware. She stands there, holding one lit candle in each hand, and bites down on her lip. The dimmer switch is low so the whole room burns with an orange light and the white dishes almost shine. They mock her, the two settings, and she considers walking right out, letting the food go cold and the ice cream melt. She considers burying herself in her bed and making herself cry again because her extra pillow still smells like him.  
  
And that’s probably the moment Leslie chooses crazy.  
  
She chooses it over falling apart or wallowing or pretending that Ben doesn’t matter. He does matter, more than she might have expected, but that doesn’t change anything. Running for office matters too.  
  
She admits to herself in that moment that she needs him.

She wants him.  
  
But she chose something else.  
  
And she doesn’t think she made the wrong choice.  
  
She just under estimated how. hard. this. was. going. to. be.  
  
And so Leslie chooses crazy.  
  
Crazy is doing whatever it takes to live with the decision. It's stuffing rags under a door to keep out an avalanche. It's dredging water up out of from a sinking boat. It's admitting she is human and she has all these emotions with no where for them to go. She needs to let them breathe or she might lose it. And she can’t lose it because she has an election to win.  
  
She sets the candles down on the table and takes the brownies out of the oven.  
  
And then Leslie sits down for a romantic dinner for two, complete with candle light and dessert. And after she leaves the dishes for morning, and takes herself to bed.  
  


***  
  


In the morning, she measures the bed because she's sure it has gotten bigger. She's never felt alone in it before.  
  
She gets a Google Reader account and starts following that food blog. She adds another one about baseball. She sets the DVR for that show he likes on ESPN - Pardon the Interruption - and puts it on in the background when she works on campaign strategies.   
  
She doesn't go back to the Whole Foods but she does wander over to the produce section of her own grocery store and buys a pomegranate because Ben always said they were rich in something she can't remember. She spends an entire evening trying to peel it or cut it or whatever you do to a pomegranate.  
  
She also spends two hours in the laundry detergent isle trying to figure out which one he uses.  
  
She drinks the Swanson Whiskey and wonders later if he was there because she can't quite remember that day or the one after.  
  
And she throws herself into the campaign and her book because that's why she is putting herself, both of them really, through this.  
  
She sees him at work and knows how hard this is on him too. Their eyes meet once a day like a ration over people's heads or across the room and Leslie can see the  _ugh_  on his face. Maybe if Leslie were a better person she'd feel guilty about that look, but she doesn't. She loves him more for it because it reminds her over and over how much he believes in her and how proud he is of her. And Leslie is just too selfish to want that to go away. It makes her beam the same way a hug from Ann does or when Ron told her she was  _Leslie Fuckin' Knope_. When she catches that face he makes - where his eyes squint up in the corners and his lips thin because he's trying to hold back the absolute pride - when she catches that face her heart moves in her chest; it's a hop, skip, and a jump. When she catches those faces the crazy just gets worse.  
  
The day her book comes out and Joan corners her on her show he looks at her with that face. That's the day Leslie logs onto that sci-fi message board Ben likes. She looks for his handle and actually claps her hands when she finds the messages he wrote. One is in a discussion about the new Star Trek movie and another about a show he likes,  _Fringe_. She changes into pajamas even though it is six o'clock and climbs into bed, curls up with her laptop, and rereads everything he has written.  
  
It's like a terrible red herring. She wants him, to talk to him and listen to him and just be with him, and this is all she can get. They are crumbs really.  
  
And she needs more than that.  
  
It takes Leslie about half-a-second to decide to create a handle of her own. She chooses  _NerdLover4eve_ r, but decides that's weird ( _cause stalking someone one a sci-fi message board isn't..._ ) and chooses  _Indianabookworm_  because it's at least true.  
  
Of course, Leslie doesn't ever do anything half-assed and she makes a list of every topic Ben has commented on. There are the ones she expected: Star Trek, Star Wars, X-Files, and Lord of the Rings. She's somewhat familiar with those and skips to the more obscure references: Firefly, Ray Bradbury, and Dr. Who. She starts with Firefly because she likes the bug. A search turns up a television series and soon she's hip deep into a whole season of episodes. Sometime before dawn she finishes "Objects in Space" she's crying and she can't help but think that Ben looks a little like Nathan Fillion.  
  
It takes Leslie the entire weekend to finish her crash-course in Nerdom and by Monday she's ready to write her first post, a response to Ben's comment in a Fringe thread. She writes it while she makes dinner, another recipe from that blog. And as she eats and reads over talking points for her interview with Perd Hapley tomorrow, her laptop is at her elbow with a window opened to the message board, and it only takes forty-five minutes before a response from  _NumbrsRobot_  ( _Ben always did have a sense of humor_ ) pops up in her inbox.  
  
Okay, cultivating an alternate identity online just so you could keep talking to your ex-boyfriend might sound like crazy gone too far, but Leslie tells herself she doesn't have any other choice.  
  
She forces herself not to reply too quickly. She waits at least an hour except the one time when they get into a real debate over when Lost jumped the shark. That one occurs in rapid fire succession and afterwards Leslie presses her palm to her heart. It's hammering.  
  
She keeps up her busy schedule and gives just as much to the campaign and her job and her friends as she normally would. She just sleeps less - stays up to read the stories by Bradbury, Wells, and King, to watch Buffy and X-Files, and to talk to Ben on the message boards.  
  
She tells herself she's just lonely.  
  
That this is as close she can get to him and not want to make out with his face.  
  
That she just needs to win the election and they can get back together.  
  
She ignores the fact that even the messages aren't really enough. That he kind of seems to flirt with  _AnimeArchAngel_. And that it bothers her. A lot.  
  


***  
  


"Leslie, what is this?"  
  
"What?"  
  
Ann stands in the doorway of her office, hand on hip, and holds the gingerbread house Leslie left on her desk earlier that morning. She doesn't say anything, just raises an eyebrow.  
  
"A gingerbread house," Leslie tries to wave it off, "you're welcome.  
  
Ann sets it down on Leslie's desk and plops into her regular chair, "You're baking now?"  
  
"Ann, it's a house made out of sugar and candy."  
  
"It's not the gingerbread house in October, Leslie. It's the curry risotto and homemade jam you gave me last week. And the heritage vegetables you tried to give to Ron last week."  
  
Leslie blanches. The problem with her new forays into cooking is that there are always leftovers.  
  
Ann leans forward and touches Leslie's hand, "What's going on?"  
  
"Nothing," Leslie smiles, "I'm just picking up a new hobby. That's all."  
  
"And just because that hobby is something that a certain ex-boyfriend used to do all the time doesn't mean anything, right?"  
  
"Nope," Leslie shakes her head, "Doesn't mean a thing."  
  


***

  
So she'll need to be a bit more sneaky.  
  
For the rest of the month she limits herself to two messages a day on the boards. She starts leaving her leftovers in the parks for the raccoons rather than bring them into work.  
  
Still, it's not that easy. She hears Ben talking with Chris about the playoffs and almost chimes in that she thinks the Rangers have a decent shot of winning it this year. When they turn to her just standing there, looking at them with her mouth open, she ducks her head and mumbles something about getting to a meeting before walking into a janitor's closet.  
  
She watches him kind of flirt with that anime girl ( _anime...something she can't get into_ ) online and feels terrible because she kind of thought Ben would've figured out  _IndianaBookworm_  was her by now.  
  
And one night when she's catching up on Haven ( _Haven...a science-fiction show Ben isn't into that she kind of loves_ ) she stumbles across the pregnancy pillow. It pops up in an ad on one of the food blogs she's checking. It's a giant curved body pillow for pregnant women, but Leslie checks the measurements and is pretty sure it'll fill that giant hole in her bed.  
  
This is probably when she delves into the real crazy.  
  
She kind of orders it. And when it comes with its muslin cover, she kind of goes and buys yards and yards of plaid from Jo-Ann's. And she kind of hires a seamstress to make a new cover. And she kind of pins the Knope 2012 pin to it the first night she sleeps with it.  
  
Yeah, it's not good.


	2. Chapter 2

The problem with choosing crazy is if people find out, well, that could be bad.  
  
And Leslie’s not that sneaky.  
  
She maintains that if it hadn’t been for  _AnimeArchAngel_ none of this would have happened, but she can’t really say that aloud, can she?  
  
It happens in the middle of the day.  
  
She’s in a meeting with Chris, Ben, and Ron about her latest idea, Singles Mingle in the Park. Ann is there because she wants to run a blood drive at the event. Chris is making the case for an all vegan menu and Leslie’s mind wanders to the speech she is giving to the Senior Center later and then the new cupcake recipe she wants to try ( _she’s discovered she likes baking a lot more than she does cooking_ ). The notification pops up in her email box. It’s from the message board.  As covertly as possible, she scoots lower in her chair so she can read the message. There is a new post from  _AnimeArchAngel_ on a Star Trek thread where Leslie is defending Kathryn Janeway as the best Starfleet captain ever.  _AnimeArchAngel_  has been leading the charge against her and Leslie is already thinking of a comeback as she opens the link  
  
 _NumbrsRobot…Assimilate this…_ What follows is an avatar of a Borg sex kitten.  
  
Leslie throws her phone across the room, and it hits Ron in the head.  
  
“Leslie, what the hell?”  
  
Ben is nearest to the phone and Leslie can’t think of anything but getting to it before he does. He’s bending over to pick it up and Leslie is up out of her chair and onto the table. She crawls across, half rolls off the other side, pushes Ben aside, and with both feet stomps on her own phone.  
  
It takes her a few tries but she cracks the screen and splits the case. Satisfied she looks up to find four pairs of eyes staring hard at her. Ron holds a hand to his bleeding forehead.  
  
She opens her mouth, but there aren’t words and she bites down on her lips, swallows, shrugs, and escapes out the door.  
  


***

  
“Leslie, what the hell was that?”  
  
Leslie just groans and puts her head down on her desk. Ann stands there for a while, but eventually she puts a hand on Leslie’s arm, “Tell me what’s going on.”  
  
But Leslie can’t. She has chosen crazy. Once you go over to the crazy you can’t just fess up to the neurotic, asinine things you’ve done, right? Even to beautiful nurse Ann who dyed her hair pink and started making out with Indiana’s version of Pauley D after Chris broke up with her… you just can’t share your crazy.  
  
Leslie can’t tell her because then she’ll have to stop. And she can’t do that. She misses him and this is her coping. Take away the crazy and she might fall apart.  
  
“Nothing,” Leslie sits up and pastes on a smile, “I’m fine.”  
  
Ann tips up her eyebrows.  
  
“I just wanted to upgrade my phone.”  
  
“It slipped.”  
  
“I’m on my period.”  
  
“It’s Jerry’s fault!”  
  
She tries every excuse she can think of, but Ann doesn’t budge. She refuses to let Leslie leave until she talks about it so Leslie blinks a lot and talks fast about happy endings and unicorns and Ann buys it. She doles out hugs and advice until security comes around and tells them to go home. They make plans to go to Indianapolis to go shopping that weekend and part ways in the parking lot.  
  
And the entire way home Leslie cries. Not because of Ben. But because she just lied to her best friend.  
  


***

  
The next day Leslie brings Ron a bottle of whiskey.  
  
His forehead has a couple of stitches in it. She sets it silently on his desk and when she gets to the door he says something low and quiet.  
  
“The second time Tammy 2 and I got a divorce I stripped off my clothes and ran into the woods. I lived there for three weeks eating nothing but snakes and acorns.”  
  
She leans against the door frame, “I remember. I formed the search parties.”  
  
“Good girl.”  
  


***

  
She stops checking the message boards and throws out all her fresh produce.  
  
She stuffs the plaid pregnancy pillow into her closet and listens to “My Heart Will Go On” on repeat ( _Why didn’t Jack just get onto the door with Rose?_ ).  
  
She tries. Really she does.  
  
But the thing is that Leslie doesn’t have any good reason to move on.  
  
Other than the whole break-up thing.  
  
She gives herself pep talks in the mirror. She is Leslie Fucking Knope. No man should turn her inside out and upside down. No man should make her miss him at the mere thought of his face. No, she is Leslie…driven, successful, and happy with her life. She is running for city council; her dreams are coming true.  
  
So why does it feel like not quite enough any more?  
  
This is about the time she turns on Ben.  
  
Screw him. Screw him for worming his way into her heart with his plaid shirts and skinny ties and long gazing looks across rooms. For the way he calls her out when she’s trying to avoid something and goes out of his way to fix it when she’s sad. For kissing her on the forehead as she was falling asleep the first time they made love and for that game with the whipped cream the second time.  
  
But most of all screw him for being a man. Not a boy who broke up with her by sky writing or some other more normal way. No, he had to go and be wonderful and exactly the type of man she knows she deserves: the kind who supports her, believes in her, and makes her question everything.  
  
Seriously? Why the hell couldn’t she just hate him and move on? It’d be so much easier.  
  
She logs back onto those message boards and  _IndianaBookworm_  kind of becomes a bitch.  
  
( _For the record, NumbrsRobot never responds to AnimeArchAngel._ )  
  
She makes mini gingerbread replicas of everyone’s homes but his, even Chris, and presents them in front of Ben. Tells him she ran out of gumdrops.  
  
And she may or may not throw tomatoes at his house.   
  
That one she feels bad for later because Andy and April live there too so she cleans it up as soon as she finishes so she doesn’t know if that counts.  
  
And she props the plaid pillow up in her bed and makes it listen to a list of all the reasons his face is terrible.  
  
But none of it works and all of it kind of makes her miserable.  
  
So she throws herself into her campaign. She writes position papers on Muammar Gaddafi and corn syrup. She goes door-to-door campaigning after work and sets up nine more speeches at the senior center. She even ::shudder:: volunteers to read at story time at the library. She tries to just do Leslie things: rereading Harry Potter, leading the most-awesome getaway camp for the Pawnee Goddesses, and reenacting inspirational speeches given by women in every park in Pawnee.  She gets Single Mingle going and breaks ground on the observatory. She takes over Tom’s job without anyone noticing and when she gets tired she just keeps working harder. She discovers that with a steady diet of Nutri-Yum bars and caffeine pills she can stop sleeping entirely.  
  
It’s not that those things don’t work. They do. It's not that she has stopped loving those things. It's that she loves Ben too.  
  
But even the things she loves don't fix the fact that her extra pillow doesn’t smell like him anymore. That her list of things she wants to tell him has spilled over into a second binder. That even Ann can’t fill that hole.  
  
So Leslie has to do it. She doesn’t want to. There are a lot of nights spent talking herself out of it in front of that bathroom mirror.  
  
But she does it.  
  
One night when she’s curled around the plaid pregnancy pillow watching SNL in her bedroom. The darkness hangs in the corners and she’s not lonely or sad. She’s simply tired of fighting the inevitable. It is like a quiet, sneaking truth that exists whether she acknowledges it or not.  
  
So she admits it. Says it aloud.  
  
She is completely, irrevocably in love with one Benjamin Wyatt.  
  


***

  
Of course then the jerkface has to go and be, well, himself.  
  
“April Ludgate-Dwyer, how are you this morning? I’m so proud of you. I don’t tell you that enough. You’re growing into your womanhood with so much grace and dignity…” Leslie sits on her hands. They’re shaking. The caffeine pills might be a bit much on top of her morning coffees.  
  
April hovers in the doorway, “I was blackmailed to bring you this coffee.”  
  
She sets the latte on Leslie’s desk. It’s topped with whipped cream and red, white, and blue sprinkles. It is a patriotic coffee. Her favorite. Leslie licks her lips.  
  
“Who blackmailed you?”  
  
“I can’t say,” April folds her arms, “It’s not like I care, but if I tell you who it’s from he’s going to stop playing Madden with Andy and then I’ll have too. And I don’t like football. It has cheerleaders.”  
  
Leslie smiles, “Well, then I won’t make you tell me.”  
  
April shrugs, “Not like I care anyway…” and she turns to leave, hesitates, and mumbles without looking Leslie in the eye, “He listens to Adele. Like a lot.”  
  


***

  
She digs his favorite cardigan out of the back of her closet, a leftover from the night they went star gazing in her back yard, launders it, and bribes April to put it on his desk.  
  
( _Bribing April is easier than Leslie thought…she’s just doing all of her work, Tom’s, and April’s now._ )  
  
They don’t talk.  
  
In fact since the phone incident they don’t even make eye contact.  
  
But the next day he shows up for a meeting wearing the cardigan and Leslie hasn’t felt this good since Lil’Sebastian died. ( _May he rest in peace_ )  
  
And that afternoon, April brings Leslie a budget proposal for her latest idea, Founder’s Day Extravaganza. The funds Chris told her didn’t exist have been found in the city manager’s discretionary account and an impassioned memo is attached arguing the event will foster community spirit.  
  
“What is he blackmailing you with this time?” Leslie asks April.  
  
The younger girl leans against the door, pops her gum, “Janet Snakehole is no fool. I demanded payment.”  
  
“Your price?”  
  
“Why do you want to know?”  
  
“I want to know what the going rate is…in case I choose to respond.”  
  
April straightens, “Hire Mouserat to play in the fall children’s concert series.”  
  
Leslie frowns, “You can’t do  _Sex Hair_.”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
For that April delivers the replica lightsaber Leslie bought for his birthday.  
  
She returns with an entire set of bakeware from Pampered Chef and for two days Leslie is dumbstruck.  
  
He is still paying attention. He is still reading between the lines and figuring her out, even the new parts.  
  
She bakes him cookies, but decides that’s too prosaic.  
  
She starts to pay better attention which isn’t easy because they still aren’t talking except for in the strictest professional sense. It’s amazing how you can be saying words to someone and still not actually be communicating. She can feel his eyes on her, but she doesn’t dare meet them and he doesn’t when she watches him. He pretends she’s not there. Instead, he blankets every wind shield at city hall with  _Vote for Knope_  flyers. He’s at every campaign meeting at Ann’s house, kind of hanging out in the back, and the image of him alone pressed against Ann’s front door gives Leslie an idea.  
  


***

  
But that’s not before all hell breaks loose.  
  
It’s the first debate.  
  
She should have this. She’s been practicing debates since she was six. There are five candidates running for the two open seats on city council and Leslie knows she’ll be the most prepared. She literally has five thousand note cards filled with possible questions and answers memorized for all of them. She makes her campaign advisers and then Ann and then Andy practice with her.  
  
But even when she wipes the floor with Andy ( _he says awesomesauce a bit too much_ ) she can’t stop shaking.  
  
“Leslie are you sure you’re alright. You’re all jittery and pale,” Andy says as he helps her pick up her dining room table.  
  
“What! I’m fine. I’m good. I’ll take those,” she grabs the note cards out of his hands. They need to go back in alphabetical order.  
  
Andy wanders over to her couch and Leslie opens her mouth to stop him, but it’s too late.  
  
“Dude, you like X-Files?” Andy picks up the case for the second season, “Ben loves this show. He and April watch it all the time. She likes all the gross stuff like guys with tails and stuff. I go to my room and jam when they watch it. I don’t do icky.”  
  
Leslie doesn’t really say anything, but Andy doesn’t notice. He’s touching all the other DVD cases, all the shows she’s tried since she and Ben broke up. A lot of which she kind of likes. It’s like Harry Potter, but not quite as awesome. He picks up the book she bought last week about Lincoln and hasn’t quite gotten a chance to read yet. And then the issue of the New Yorker and finally he squats to peer at the Pawnee Monopoly board Leslie made herself because it's the closest thing to marrying their favorite things, numbers and Pawnee, that she could think of.   
  
“Man you and Ben really do like the same stuff. You guys should hang out more. You used too. It always sucks when April and I leave the house and he’s just sitting there home alone…” Andy stands up.  
  
Leslie swallows, “Andy, I think I need you to go now. I’m just really tired and I think…” she touches her brow, thins her lips.  
  
“Leslie, you really don’t look good,” Andy frowns, “maybe I should call someone. Ann or April. She’s an awesome nurse. Sometimes we play dress-up and…”  
  
“Andy. Go. Now.”  
  
And because he thinks she’s his boss Andy goes. Leslie closes the door behind him, leans against it, and drops down to the floor.  
  
What is wrong with her?  
  
She presses her palms into her eyes and groans. This isn’t about Ben. This is nerves. And maybe she’s a little tired too. She’s been falling asleep in strange places like in line at the grocery store and at a bus stop ( _she can’t remember why she was at a bus stop_ ). And maybe she needs to go back to eating more vegetables. All the sugar and caffeine can’t be good for her. Wasn’t that what Ann was always saying?  
  
She can’t really form whole sentences right now.  
  
She just needs to get through the debate tomorrow and plan the party for Ben. So he won't feel so alone.  
  
Then she’ll sleep.  
  


***

  
Leslie spends all night making the arrangements. She makes the invitations and convinces April ( _at an increasingly steep price, now Leslie is hiring Mouserat to play at all her rallies...forever)_  to pretend she wants to celebrate her half-birthday at the Snakehole. She’s got to get Ben to go and everyone else. Leslie will feign exhaustion from her debate and stay home. And Ben will have a whole night free from her, with his friends, and he won’t be so lonely.  
  
And when she gets to the office the next day and April gives her a dozen yellow roses ( _for friendship the girl deadpans)_ , Leslie barely processes it. Everything is blurry and swimming.  
  
Ann comes to help Leslie do her makeup for television and asks Leslie if she is okay. Leslie assures her it’s just the debate and makes her promise to go to April’s birthday party.  
  
“I don’t get why we’re not celebrating you,” Ann mutters and Leslie hugs her best friend. She decides that after today she’ll confess it all to Ann ( _okay, maybe not the message board stuff)_.  
  
Tom gets her a limo ( _not sure why, says it’s what 720 does for its best customers_ ) and Ron and Ann ride with her over to the studio. The entire time Leslie fists her hands in her lap because they won’t stop shaking. Her limbs are so heavy and twice she thinks a bird has gotten into the limo.  
  
She is oddly quiet at the studio and everyone assumes it’s because she’s nervous. She sees Ben, who is in the studio audience, frowning from the corner of her eye. She wonders vaguely why, but right now she can’t be concerned. She just needs to win this debate.  
  
Someone leads Leslie to her podium. She nods politely to her opponents and someone on set starts the live count down.  
  
Leslie can almost hear herself breathe. Her fingers flex on the side of the podium. She moves her feet so they stand solid, firmly planted shoulder width apart.  
  
 _Five._  
  
This is it.  
  
 _Four._  
  
This is everything she’s ever wanted.  
  
 _Three._  
  
Right here within her grasp.  
  
 _Two._  
  
Win this and she can serve Pawnee. She can have Ben back and stop choosing crazy. She can prove to that little girl she once was that if you can believe in yourself you really can achieve your dreams.  
  
 _One._  
  
“Welcome to the first of sixteen debates in the race for City Council. Welcome to Public Access. I am your host, Dwyer Boring. And no, my first name is not ironic. Our first question is for Ms. Knope. Tell us why Pawnee is the greatest town in America.”  
  
***  
  
Leslie doesn’t remember what happened after that, but here is what was written up in the Pawnee Journal:  
  
 _The first question was directed to Ms. Knope, assistant director of the Parks and Recreation department for Pawnee. Mr. Dwyer Boring, the moderator asked her what made Pawnee the greatest town in America, a stipulation that Knope made recently in her new book. Knope appeared flustered by the question and asked for it be repeated. When it was she became greatly agitated and declared the question unfair and racist. While Boring tried to defend his question, Knope began some sort of “goddess” dance around the other candidates. In the process, the tuppee of Lexter Franks, another candidate, was knocked off. Knope seemed to mistake the hair piece for a possum and tackled it. In the process, she knocked over another candidate, Dee Brakrowski whose skirt went up over her head, revealing that she was in fact not wearing underwear. A citizen, one Ann Perkins, rushed the stage just as Knope tried to pull down her own pants and pulled the candidate from the camera. A statement made by Parks Department director Ronald Swanson states that Leslie Knope was bitten by a rapid raccoon just before appearing on air while saving a small child from a giant falling boulder. No comment was available from her campaign about her current status as of this reporter’s deadline._


	3. Chapter 3

“Leslie?”  
  
When Leslie opens her eyes she is lying down. Ann and Andy peer over her and she feels groggy.  
  
"Leslie, you're not going to die!" Both Ann and Leslie frown at Andy and he just sorta shrugs.  
  
Leslie sits up, “What happened?” She is in a hospital bed. The curtain is pulled around them, shutting out whatever was happening beyond it.  
  
Ann holds her arm, “You had a break down during the debate.”  
  
“Dude, Leslie it was like you went crazy or something.”  
  
Leslie drops her head into her hands and Ann rubs her back in large, overlapping circles. “How bad was it?”  
  
“Well, you managed to knock two candidates out of the race,” Ann says, “Lester Franks was too embarrassed after you attacked his tuppee and Dee Brawkrowski was kind of forced out after you made her show her va-jay-jay on local television.”  
  
“I did what?!?”  
  
“It wasn’t a good va-jay-jay, Leslie.” Andy says.  
  
“All you did was knock her over,” Ann says over him, “who knew a mother of three didn’t wear underwear?”  
  
“Ooooooohhhhhhh.”  
  
“Just keep breathing. Ron and Chris are dealing with the media,” Ann says.  
  
“What about Barnes?”  
  
Ann and Andy share a look.  
  
“He kind of quit. Said he didn’t want to be part of amateur hour and that you were a sinking ship and -,” Andy says, but Ann throws him a look and he nods quickly, “but don’t worry Leslie. Ben punched him in the gut. It was great cause the dude just kept saying these terrible things about you and Ben just walked right up and punched him…”  
  
“Andy,” Ann hisses through gritted teeth, but Andy just keeps going.  
  
“And then he kind of took over. It was like he was possessed and it was awesome. He put me in charge of protecting you and Ann to look over your life…”  
  
“It was more like he told us to get you to the hospital.” Ann corrects but no one listens to her.   
  
“And he had Ron and Chris issue a statement that said you got bit by a rapid raccoon and that’s why you acted like that. Good job, by the way of pulling that girl from that falling boulder…”  
  
“But I didn’t…” Leslie tries to say.  
  
Ann just shakes her head, “Don’t bother.”  
  
“And when Joan wanted to ride in the ambulance with you he stood between her and the ambulance and she rammed him.” Andy’s eyes bulged.  
  
“She rammed him?” Leslie looks at Ann who nods.  
  
“Yeah, that might not have been as cool cause she’s kind of bigger than him and she kinda knocked him over and broke his wrist. There was bone sticking out and everything!”  
  
“Sprained it. It’s just a sprain.” Ann says and Leslie exhales.  
  
“Ooooooooohhhhhhh!”  
  
Ann resumes rubbing her back, “Andy, go find April and tell her to stare down those doctors until they come release Leslie,” Ann says. Andy salutes them and disappears behind the curtain. When he is gone Ann stops rubbing her back and gets Leslie to look at her, “We’re going to get you home and you are going to start explaining to me. You’re going to start with your stash of Nutri-Yums. Ben said your whole pantry is filled with them.”  
  
“Ben went to my house?”  
  
Ann looks at her funny, “I gave him your keys and had him go get a change of clothes for you. You got a nosebleed when you hit the floor. It was either him or Tom going through your bedroom, so yeah…”  
  
“He’s been in my bedroom?”  
  
“Leslie, what’s going on?”  
  
“Oooooooohhhhhh."  
  
She can see all of it: the DVD’s and Star Trek Trivial Pursuit she bought, the half-finished pizzas, the plaid pregnancy pillow with the Knope 2012 button on it, and the campaign posters of her opponents that she might have drawn mustaches on. There is the mock debate set she’d made in her living room complete with blow up dolls she’d ordered offline ( _not to use that way…_ ) and dressed them to be like her friends. It helped her in her prep work to be able to look out and see an Ann and a Ron and even a Ben. There are dishes in the sink and on the counters and on the table. She hadn’t done laundry in weeks and there might be a bird living in her spare bedroom. She isn’t sure and just keeps the door shut. And there is the plaid nightgown she bought at Target last week lying on her bed and her laptop with the message boards up and…, “Ooooooooohhhhhhh.”  
  
And for the first time in her life, Leslie really has no idea what to do.  
  


***

  
April is effective because Leslie is released quickly. But not after she receives a very long, boring lecture about exhaustion and not eating right. After Ann promises to make sure Leslie takes better care of herself they are allowed to leave. April brings a bag with Leslie’s clothes in it and Leslie can’t help but smile. He’d picked out her favorite jeans and Lil’ Sebastian t-shirt. There were converse and best of all a blazer. She rubs the nubbly wool and chews on her bottom lip.  
  
 _God, she likes him so much._  
  
When they get to her house it is all cleaned up. All the things she was afraid he saw are put away. The DVD’s are tucked in amongst her own collection of political thrillers and Glen Close favorites. Her pots and pans are washed and put away. And when she gets to her room the pillow is stashed in her closet. He’d finished her laundry, folded it, and left the basket on her bed. The nightgown is delicately folded under some sweatshirts. But he didn't just pick up the embarrassing things. He’d vacuumed and straightened up her piles and dusted and cleaned her house.  
  
 _God, she loves him so much._  
  
Ann and April stare with wild eyes.  
  
“Leslie, I’ve never seen your place so clean,” Ann says.  
  
“I know,” Leslie says, but leaves them gaping to go up to her room and check her laptop. Surely he typed out a message. Left some sort of note only she’d be able to find. He had to have said something, right?  
  
But he didn’t. There is nothing and Leslie trembles a little because even with everything he’s done she still just wants to talk to him.  
  


***

  
They order pizza.  
  
Ron arrives with Chris and Tom comes over with Donna and Jerry. Everyone is there except for Ben. He is noticeably absent.  
  
“The boy went home to sleep, Leslie,” Ron says to her when her eyes keep coming back to the door.  
  
Everyone talks about anything but what happened today until finally Leslie can’t stand it anymore and stands up. She swallows and holds up the glass of water Ann is making her drink ( _no more Nutri-Yum shakes_ ), “I just want to say thank you guys. For helping me today. I may have to drop out of the race tomorrow, but at least I know I have the best friends in the world.”  
  
“You can’t drop out now,” Ann says.  
  
“Ann, I tried to pull my pants down on national television.”  
  
“It was local cable and you’ve done that before.”  
  
“Besides Leslie,” Chris says, “the media believes you were bitten by a rabid raccoon. That’s apparently quite common in Pawnee.”  
  
“But there is no girl and no falling boulder. The press is going to eat me alive when they figure out the story isn’t true.”  
  
“We just used Tom,” Ron says, “Issued a correction and his picture. No one questions he could easily be mistaken as a fat baby girl from a distance.”  
  
“Oh my god, that was you Tom!” Andy exclaims, “Thank god you’re okay!”  
  
“I’m not a fat baby,” Tom sulks, but doesn’t protest more than that when Ron arches an eyebrow.  
  
“Girl, in one day you managed to cut out half of your opponents. Even that skinny bitch Sarah Palin never managed to do that,” Donna says, “you can’t drop out.”  
  
Leslie looks at all of her friends and is overwhelmed by the love and support coming from them. They are all here, ready to man the front lines of her hobbled campaign, and she starts to cry. Ann hugs her and then Andy and Jerry and Chris. With some prompting Donna joins in and Ron pats Leslie on the head while sipping whiskey. When Leslie looks for April she can’t find her, but assumes the amount of emotion was just too much. The girl must have fled the room.  
  
And when her ( _and Chris’_ ) tears are dried, Leslie exhales, “I’m going to need a new campaign manager.”  
  
“Got that covered,” Ann steps up, “that’s going to be me.”  
  
“Ann, no offense, but you don’t know anything about politics,” Chris says, “I may not be politically savvy, but I would be an excellent image consultant.”  
  
“You gotta hire Entertainment 720…”  
  
“And Mouserat will play every political event you do…”  
  
“Guys,” Ann cuts them all off, “I’m going to be Leslie’s campaign manager. I already have a plan.” And she pulls out a stack of stapled papers from her purse, lays them on the coffee table, and waits while everyone takes one. Leslie scans it. It is a campaign plan. A typed out plan for how Leslie should deal with today’s disaster and the target demographics she can hope to attract in this new three person race. It is thorough and excellent.  
  
It’s the numbers that give it away. There are too many numbers for this to be Ann. Too much talk of census data and the demographics of the last City Council election. This has Ben written all over it.  
  
Leslie finishes reading first and her eyes meet Ann’s across the room. Her best friend mouths, “I’m sorry,” and Leslie gets it.  
  
He can’t be around her. He has to stay in the background because if anyone anywhere gets wind of them today will look like a cake walk. She’s ruined any cushion she had in this campaign and now if she wants to win everything from here on out needs to be flawless.  
  
The fact that he realized that before her makes her want to cry again. She rubs her eyes with both palms. Suddenly she’s so tired. It hits her that in choosing crazy just to cope she’s lost a little bit of herself. She’s exhausted her mind and body and heart just trying to pretend everything is okay. What she really wants to do is to go out onto her porch and yell until everyone in Pawnee hears that she slept with her boss, fell in love with him, but she believes in Pawnee. She believes in herself and she’s put all that aside, risked that she may never get it back, just to work for this damn town. She wants them to know what she’s done and that she’d do it again and Ben would tell her to do it again. And who can blame her for loving a guy like that?  
  
Ann can see Leslie crashing. She announces a campaign meeting at her house on Saturday morning, threatens to come drag Tom’s ass out of bed if he’s not there, and assures him no that’s not a proposition. Leslie goes through the goodbyes as Ann cleans up. She expects her best friend to stick around and demand an explanation for what is going on between her and Ben, but she doesn’t. She tucks the last box of Nutri-Yums under her arm and hugs Leslie.  
  
“I’ll bring JJ’s over in the morning and we’ll talk more.”  
  
And Leslie shuts the door after Ann, presses her back to it, and closes her eyes. For a moment she pretends that Ben is just out of the room - in the kitchen cleaning up or upstairs getting ready for bed. She pictures him coming into the room, holding a dish towel or the book he’s going to read, and he puts whatever is in his hands down. He comes to her, finger tips skimming her ribs and settling on her hip bones. He holds her away for a moment and tells her to open her eyes. And when she looks up into his eyes she really believes it will all be alright.  
  
“Leslie!”  
  
The pounding on the door startles Leslie out of her day dream. She jumps, doubles over to catch her breath. Through the glass she can see April, hand on hip, calling out her name.  
  
“What is it?” Leslie opens the door.  
  
“I want a slip n'slide for this,” she says and shoves a package into Leslie’s hands. Before she can say anything April is gone and Leslie sees Andy’s car backing out of her driveway. She shuts the door and turns the box over in her hands. It takes her half a second to realize who it's from.  
  
She takes it upstairs to her room and sits in the middle of her bed, cross legged, and looks at the box before her.  
  
She wonders if she wants to open it. It feels forbidden and dangerous, but like Pandora curiosity gets the better of her.  
  
It’s a phone and a note. She opens the note first.  
  
 _Cause you’re not sneaky. 10:30 p.m._  
  
It’s his hand writing and Leslie looks at the clock. It’s 10:25. She turns the phone over. It’s one of those nondescript pre-paid phones. She turns it on. There is one phone number programmed into the phone. She compares it with her own phone but it’s not one she has. With more calm than she feels, she leaves the phone on the bed and throws out the packaging. Tucks the note into her bedside table drawer and watches as the numbers on the phone turn over from 10:29 to 10:30.  
  
And then it rings and Leslie picks it up.  
  
“Hello.”


End file.
